without words

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"Kyle! Dear, come down stairs!"

It was still very early in the morning. I could tell because of the digital clock illuminating the time (6:47 am),  piercing the darkness of my room. It was early in the Saturday.

I was awake but I lay still in my bed with the covers up to my neck. If one was to peek through my bedroom door now, they would see a boy lying on the bed completely still with his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Kyle!" The voice called out again with more singsong in her voice than earlier. Also much more strained like my mom was getting annoyed. And that, no doubt. "Wake up, honey! Jake's here." I could almost see her hopeful smile with the mention of his name.

I removed the covers and went downstairs. And as she had said, the black-haired boy with the half-smile sat in the couch.

He was watching sports on the TV but looked up when he heard me. I waved a hand at him half-heartedly before heading to the kitchen.

Mom was flipping pancakes while humming a tune ( probably of her own invention). I approached the stack of done pancakes and took a bite at one. She turned and smiled at me.

"Oh, good. You're awake. Bring those to Jake won't you?"

I did what I was told.

"Sup," Jake said when I sat down beside him.

I just nodded without taking my eyes off the TV.

We sat there in silence for awhile. But after the first set, he broke the thin veil of quiet.

"Hey, wanna talk about it?" His voice was normal. I didn't hear pity or any of that sort which I kept hearing After. I appreciated that. I also appreciate the fact that it wasn't 'are you okay?' that he asked but if I wanted to talk about it. Only the Man above knows how many times I lied by saying I'm fine.

I stayed silent for a moment before nodding. I stood up and started up the stairs. I didn't have to check if he was following me.

I opened the door to my room and plopped back down on my bed. I stared up at the ceiling. I heard the door shut quietly afterwards. And then the squeak of my desk chair indicating he had sat down.

He waited. And we were both quiet.

I appreciated how he didn't rush me to speak. I always loved the quiet when it was with him.

I took a breath.

"So. This is shittier than I ever imagined." I began. I didn't really know where to start. And I guess that showed on my words. Did I start with 'you were right, I was wrong?' Or 'I'm hurt and broken and devastated and I don't know what to do about this me that's actually just the leftover pieces of what once was a whole'?

I looked at his expression for the first time with a decided glance. And of course, I wasn't surprised to see him pissed off. He was my bestfriend after all.

"That bitch! I swear, if I see her I'll wipe her off the face of the Earth." He said with an anger and fire in his voice that I have'nt heard for the 12 years that I've known him. He looked ready to kill. Not that that was unusual but well, more than usual.

I smiled. A half-assed smile. But it was all I could do After and on a Saturday morning nonetheless.

He winced as he saw my smile. Obviously, he could see it was fake.

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